Decision Points Part 12

After the service, Laura and I boarded Marine One for the flight back to Was.h.i.+ngton. By that afternoon I had reached one of the defining decision points in my presidency: We would fight the war on terror on the offense, and the first battlefront would be Afghanistan.

My decision was a departure from America's policies over the past two decades. After Hezbollah terrorists bombed our Marine barracks and emba.s.sy in Lebanon in 1983, President Reagan withdrew our forces. When terrorist warlords in Somalia shot down an American Black Hawk helicopter in 1993, President Clinton pulled our troops out. In 1998, al Qaeda's bombing of two American emba.s.sies in East Africa prompted President Clinton to launch cruise missiles at al Qaeda al Qaeda sites in Afghanistan. But the training camps had been largely abandoned, and the long-distance strike came across as impotent and ineffectual. When al Qaeda blew up the USS sites in Afghanistan. But the training camps had been largely abandoned, and the long-distance strike came across as impotent and ineffectual. When al Qaeda blew up the USS Cole Cole off the coast of Yemen, America mounted almost no response at all. off the coast of Yemen, America mounted almost no response at all.

My predecessors made their decisions in a different era. After al Qaeda killed nearly three thousand people in the United States, it was clear the terrorists had interpreted our lack of a serious response as a sign of weakness and an invitation to attempt more brazen attacks. Al Qaeda messages frequently cited our withdrawals as evidence that Americans were, in the words of bin Laden, "paper tigers" who could be forced to "run in less than twenty-four hours."

After 9/11, I was determined to change that impression. I decided to employ the most aggressive of the three options General Shelton had laid out. Cruise missile and manned bomber attacks would be part of our response, but they were not enough. Dropping expensive weapons on spa.r.s.ely populated camps would not break the Taliban's hold on the country or destroy al Qaeda's sanctuary. It would only reinforce the terrorists' belief that they could strike us without paying a serious price. This time we would put boots on the ground, and keep them there until the Taliban and al Qaeda were driven out and a free society could emerge.

Unless I received definitive evidence tying Saddam Hussein to the 9/11 plot, I would work to resolve the Iraq problem diplomatically. I hoped unified pressure by the world might compel Saddam to meet his international obligations. The best way to show him we were serious was to succeed in Afghanistan.

The next morning, I convened the National Security Council in the Cabinet Room. "The purpose of this meeting is to a.s.sign tasks for the first wave of the war on terrorism," I said. "It starts today."

Shortly after 9/11, Denny Hastert, the reliable and steady speaker of the House, had suggested that I address a joint session of Congress, as President Franklin Roosevelt had done after Pearl Harbor. I liked the idea but wanted to wait until I had something to say. Now I did. We scheduled the speech for September 20.

I knew the American people had a lot of questions: Who attacked us? Why do they hate us? What will the war look like? What is expected of the average citizen? The answers would form the outline of my address.

I decided to invite a special guest to join me for the speech, British Prime Minister Tony Blair Tony Blair. A few hours before I left for Capitol Hill, Tony came to the White House for dinner. I pulled him into a quiet corner of the State Floor to give him an update on the war plans, including my decision to deploy ground troops. He reiterated that Great Britain would be at our side. America's closest ally in the wars of the last century would be with us in the first war of a new century.

As the moment to deliver the speech approached, Tony said, "You don't seem the least bit nervous, George. Don't you need some time alone?" I hadn't thought about it until he mentioned it. I didn't need to be alone. I had taken time to make a careful decision, and I knew what I wanted to say. Plus, I appreciated the company of my friend.

In the Blue Room with Tony Blair. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper The environment in the House chamber felt different from the National Cathedral on September 14. There was a mix of energy, anger, and defiance. I later learned that more than eighty-two million people were watching on TV, the largest audience ever for a presidential speech.

"In the normal course of events, presidents come to this chamber to report on the state of the Union," I began. "Tonight, no such report is needed. It has already been delivered by the American people....My fellow citizens, we have seen the state of our Union-and it is strong."

I ran through the questions and answers-the ident.i.ty of the terrorists, their ideology, and the new kind of war we would wage. "Our response involves far more than instant retaliation and isolated strikes," I said. "Americans should not expect one battle, but a lengthy campaign, unlike any other we have ever seen. It may include dramatic strikes, visible on TV, and covert operations, secret even in success....Every nation, in every region, now has a decision to make. Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists."

I laid out an ultimatum to the Taliban: "They will hand over the terrorists, or they will share in their fate." We had little hope that Afghanistan's leaders would heed it. But exposing their defiance to the world would firm up our justification for a military strike. As I approached the conclusion, I said: [In] our grief and anger we have found our mission and our moment....We will rally the world to this cause by our efforts, by our courage. We will not tire, we will not falter, and we will not fail.It is my hope that in the months and years ahead, life will return almost to normal. We'll go back to our lives and routines, and that is good. Even grief recedes with time and grace. But our resolve must not pa.s.s. Each of us will remember what happened that day, and to whom it happened. We'll remember the moment the news came-where we were and what we were doing. Some will remember an image of a fire, or a story of rescue. Some will carry memories of a face and a voice gone forever.And I will carry this: It is the police s.h.i.+eld of a man named George Howard, who died at the World Trade Center trying to save others. It was given to me by his mom, Arlene, as a proud memorial to her son. It is my reminder of lives that ended, and a task that does not end.I will not forget this wound to our country or those who inflicted it. I will not yield; I will not rest; I will not relent in waging this struggle for freedom and security for the American people.

The next day, September 21, I immersed myself in the war planning. Dealing with the military as commander in chief was a new experience. The officers' dress uniforms with the rows of ribbons highlighted their military expertise, which was a whole lot more extensive than mine.

Seven months earlier, Laura and I had held a dinner at the White House for military leaders and their wives. I hoped to break down some of the formality and get to know the generals and admirals on a personal level, so they would feel free to give me candid opinions and I would feel more comfortable asking for them.

One of the commanders I met was General Tommy Franks, who came to the White House with his wife, Cathy. Tommy had a chestful of medals, including multiple Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts from Vietnam. As a one-star general, he had commanded troops in the Gulf War. In 2000, he a.s.sumed the top post at Central Command, a theater stretching from the Horn of Africa to Central Asia, including Afghanistan.

"General, I understand you're from Midland, Texas," I said.

"Yes, Mr. President, I am," he said with a warm smile and a West Texas drawl.

"I hear you went to high school with Laura Laura," I added.

"Yes, sir, graduated one year before her," he answered. "But don't worry, Mr. President, I never dated her."

I let out a big laugh. That was an interesting thing to say to your new commander in chief. I had a feeling Tommy and I were going to get along just fine.

At the ranch with Tommy Franks. White House/Susan Sterner White House/Susan Sterner Tommy made clear the mission in Afghanistan would not be easy. Everything about the country screamed trouble. It is remote, rugged, and primitive. Its northern half is home to ethnic Tajiks, Uzbeks, Hazaras, Turkmen, and others. The southern half is dominated by Pashtuns. Tribal, ethnic, and religious rivalries date back centuries. Yet for all their differences, the people of Afghanistan have a way of banding together against foreigners. They drove out the British in the nineteenth century. They drove out the Soviets in the twentieth century. Even Alexander the Great failed to conquer the country. Afghanistan had earned a foreboding nickname: Graveyard of Empires.

Tommy's war plan, later code-named Operation Enduring Freedom, included four phases. The first was to connect the Special Forces with the CIA teams to clear the way for conventional troops to follow. Next we would mount a ma.s.sive air campaign to take out al Qaeda and Taliban targets, and conduct humanitarian airdrops to deliver relief to the Afghan people. The third phase called for ground troops from both America and coalition partners to enter the country and hunt down remaining Taliban and al Qaeda fighters. Finally, we would stabilize the country and help the Afghan people build a free society.

I viewed my role as making sure the plan was comprehensive and consistent with the strategic vision-in this case, removing the Taliban, denying sanctuary to al Qaeda, and helping a democratic government emerge. I asked Tommy a lot of questions: How many troops would we need? What kind of basing would be available? How long would it take to move everyone? What level of enemy resistance did he expect?

I did not try to manage the logistics or the tactical decisions. My instinct was to trust the judgment of the military leaders.h.i.+p. They were the trained professionals; I was a new commander in chief. I remembered the Vietnam-era photos of Lyndon Johnson and Defense Secretary Robert McNamara poring over maps to pick bombing targets for routine missions. Their micromanagement had an impact throughout the chain of command. When I was in flight school, one of my instructors who had flown in Vietnam complained that the Air Force was so restricted that the enemy could figure out exactly when and where they would be flying. The reason, as he put it, was that "the politicians did not want to p.i.s.s people off."

One area where Tommy needed help was in lining up support from Afghanistan's neighbors. Without logistical cooperation from Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, we would not be able to move our troops into Afghanistan. I didn't know the leaders of these former Soviet republics. But Russia still had tremendous influence in the region, and I knew Vladimir Putin Vladimir Putin.

Putin and I had met for the first time that June in a Slovenian palace once used by the communist leader t.i.to. My goal at the summit had been to cut through any tension and forge a connection with Putin. I placed a high priority on personal diplomacy. Getting to know a fellow world leader's personality, character, and concerns made it easier to find common ground and deal with contentious issues. That was a lesson I had picked up from Dad, who was one of the great pract.i.tioners of personal diplomacy. Another was Abraham Lincoln. "If you would win a man to your cause," Lincoln once said, "first convince him that you are his friend."

At Camp David with Vladimir Putin. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper The summit with Putin started with a small meeting-just Vladimir and me, our national security advisers, and the interpreters. He seemed a little tense. He opened by speaking from a stack of note cards. The first topic was the Soviet-era debt of the Russian Federation.

After a few minutes, I interrupted his presentation with a question: "Is it true your mother gave you a cross that you had blessed in Jerusalem?"

A look of shock washed over Putin's face as Peter, the interpreter, delivered the line in Russian. I explained that the story had caught my attention in some background reading-I didn't tell him it was an intelligence briefing-and I was curious to learn more. Putin recovered quickly and told the story. His face and his voice softened as he explained that he had hung the cross in his dacha, which subsequently caught on fire. When the firefighters arrived, he told them all he cared about was the cross. He dramatically re-created the moment when a worker unfolded his hand and revealed the cross. It was, he said, "as if it was meant to be."

"Vladimir," I said, "that is the story of the cross. Things are meant to be." I felt the tension drain from the meeting room.

After the meeting, a reporter asked if Putin was "a man that Americans can trust." I said yes. I thought of the emotion in Vladimir's voice when he shared the story of the cross. "I looked the man in the eye," I said, "...I was able to get a sense of his soul." In the years ahead, Putin would give me reasons to revise my opinion.

Three months after our meeting in Slovenia, Putin was the first foreign leader to call the White House on September 11. He couldn't reach me on Air Force One, so Condi spoke to him from the PEOC. He a.s.sured her that Russia would not increase its military readiness in response to our move to DefCon Three, as the Soviet Union would have done automatically during the Cold War. When I talked to Vladimir the next day, he told me he had signed a decree declaring a minute of silence to show solidarity with the United States. He ended by saying, "Good will triumph over evil. I want you to know that in this struggle, we will stand together."

On September 22, I called Putin from Camp David. In a long Sat.u.r.day-morning conversation, he agreed to open Russian airs.p.a.ce to American military planes and use his influence with the former Soviet republics to help get our troops into Afghanistan. I suspected he would be worried about Russia being encircled, but he was more concerned about the terrorist problem in his neighborhood. He even ordered Russian generals to brief their American counterparts on their experience during their Afghanistan invasion in the 1980s.

It was an amazing conversation. I told Vladimir I appreciated his willingness to move beyond the suspicions of the past. Before long, we had our agreements with the former Soviet republics.

In late September, George Tenet reported that the first of the CIA teams had entered Afghanistan and linked up with the Northern Alliance Northern Alliance. Tommy Franks told me he would be ready to deploy our Special Forces soon. I threw out a question to the team that had been on my mind: "So who's going to run the country?"

There was silence.

I wanted to make sure the team had thought through the postwar strategy. I felt strongly that the Afghan people should be able to select their new leader. They had suffered too much-and the American people were risking too much-to let the country slide back into tyranny. I asked Colin to work on a plan for a transition to democracy.

On Friday, October 5, General d.i.c.k Myers told me the military was ready to launch. I was ready, too. We had given the Taliban Taliban more than two weeks to respond to the ultimatum I had delivered. The Taliban had not met any of our demands. Their time was up. more than two weeks to respond to the ultimatum I had delivered. The Taliban had not met any of our demands. Their time was up.

Don Rumsfeld was on his way back from the Middle East and Central Asia, where he had finalized several important basing agreements. I waited for him to return before I gave the official order. On Sat.u.r.day morning, October 6, I spoke to Don and d.i.c.k Myers by secure video-conference from Camp David. I asked one last time if they had everything they needed. They did.

"Go," I said. "This is the right thing to do."

I knew in my heart that striking al Qaeda, removing the Taliban, and liberating the suffering people of Afghanistan was necessary and just. But I worried about all that could go wrong. The military planners had laid out the risks: ma.s.s starvation, an outbreak of civil war, the collapse of the Pakistani government, an uprising by Muslims around the world, and the one I feared most-a retaliatory attack on the American homeland.

When I boarded Marine One the next morning to return to Was.h.i.+ngton, Laura Laura and a few key advisers knew I had given the order, but virtually no one else did. To preserve the secrecy of the operation, I went ahead with my previously announced schedule, which included attending a ceremony at the National Fallen Firefighters Memorial in Emmitsburg, Maryland. I spoke about the 343 New York City firefighters who had given their lives on 9/11, by far the worst day in the history of American firefighting. The casualties ranged from the chief of the department, Pete Ganci, to young recruits in their first months on the job. and a few key advisers knew I had given the order, but virtually no one else did. To preserve the secrecy of the operation, I went ahead with my previously announced schedule, which included attending a ceremony at the National Fallen Firefighters Memorial in Emmitsburg, Maryland. I spoke about the 343 New York City firefighters who had given their lives on 9/11, by far the worst day in the history of American firefighting. The casualties ranged from the chief of the department, Pete Ganci, to young recruits in their first months on the job.

The memorial was a vivid reminder of why America would soon be in the fight. Our military understood, too. Seven thousand miles away, the first bombs fell. On several of them, our troops had painted the letters FDNY FDNY.

The first reports out of Afghanistan were positive. In two hours of aerial bombardment, we and our British allies had wiped out the Taliban's meager air defense system and several known al Qaeda al Qaeda training camps. Behind the bombs, we dropped more than thirty-seven thousand rations of food and relief supplies for the Afghan people, the fastest delivery of humanitarian aid in the history of warfare. training camps. Behind the bombs, we dropped more than thirty-seven thousand rations of food and relief supplies for the Afghan people, the fastest delivery of humanitarian aid in the history of warfare.

After several days, we ran into a problem. The air campaign had destroyed most of the Taliban and al Qaeda infrastructure. But we were having trouble inserting our Special Forces. They were grounded at a former Soviet air base in Uzbekistan, separated from their landing zone in Afghanistan by fifteen-thousand-foot-high mountains, freezing temperatures, and blinding snowstorms.

I pressed for action. Don and Tommy a.s.sured me they were moving as fast as possible. But as the days pa.s.sed, I became more and more frustrated. Our response looked too much like the impotent air war America had waged in the past. I worried we were sending the wrong message to the enemy and to the American people. Tommy Franks later called those days a period "from h.e.l.l." I felt the same way.

Twelve days after I announced the start of the war, the first of the Special Forces teams finally touched down. In the north, our forces linked up with the CIA and Northern Alliance fighters. In the south, a small team of Special Forces raided Taliban leader Mullah Omar Mullah Omar's headquarters in Kandahar.

Months later, I visited Fort Bragg in North Carolina, where I met members of the Special Forces team that had led the raid. They gave me a brick from the remnants of Mullah Omar's compound. I kept it in the private study next to the Oval Office as a reminder that we were fighting this war with boots on the ground-and that the Americans in those boots were courageous and skilled.

The arrival of our troops did not quiet doubts at home. On October 25, Condi told me the slow pace of operations, which was producing a drumbeat of criticism in the media, was affecting the national security team. The war was only eighteen days old, but some were already talking about alternative strategies.

In times of uncertainty, any indication of doubt from the president ripples throughout the system. At a National Security Council meeting the next morning, I said, "I just want to make sure that all of us did agree on this plan, right?" I went around the table and asked every member of the team. They all agreed.

I a.s.sured the team that we had the right strategy. Our plan was well conceived. Our military was capable. Our cause was just. We shouldn't give in to second-guessing second-guessing or let the press panic us. "We're going to stay confident and patient, cool and steady," I said. or let the press panic us. "We're going to stay confident and patient, cool and steady," I said.

I could sense the relief in the room. The experience reminded me that even the most accomplished and powerful people sometimes need to be rea.s.sured. As I later told journalist Bob Woodward, the president has to be the "calcium in the backbone."

I was glad we had stiffened our spines when I saw the New York Times New York Times on October 31. Reporter on October 31. Reporter Johnny Apple Johnny Apple had written an article headlined "A Military Quagmire Remembered: Afghanistan as Vietnam." His opening sentence read, "Like an unwelcome specter from an unhappy past, the ominous word 'quagmire' has begun to haunt conversations among government officials and students of foreign policy, both here and abroad." had written an article headlined "A Military Quagmire Remembered: Afghanistan as Vietnam." His opening sentence read, "Like an unwelcome specter from an unhappy past, the ominous word 'quagmire' has begun to haunt conversations among government officials and students of foreign policy, both here and abroad."

In some ways, this was predictable. The reporters of my generation tend to see everything through the prism of Watergate or Vietnam. Still, I was amazed the Times Times couldn't wait even a month to tag Afghanistan with the Vietnam label. couldn't wait even a month to tag Afghanistan with the Vietnam label.

The differences between the two conflicts were striking. The enemy in Afghanistan had just murdered three thousand innocent people on American soil. At the time we had almost no conventional forces in Afghanistan, compared to the hundreds of thousands that had been in Vietnam. America was unified behind our troops and their mission. And we had a growing coalition at our side.

None of those distinctions mattered to the media. The debate about the so-called quagmire continued on the editorial pages and cable TV. I shrugged it off. I knew most Americans would be patient and supportive, so long as we delivered results.

In early November, results arrived. Supported by CIA officers and Special Forces, Northern Alliance generals moved toward Taliban Taliban positions. The Afghan warriors led the ground attacks, while our Special Forces used GPS units and laser guidance systems to direct airstrikes. Northern Alliance fighters and our Special Forces mounted a cavalry charge and liberated the strategic city of Mazar-i-Sharif. Residents poured into the streets in celebration. The most modern weaponry of the twenty-first century, combined with a horse charge reminiscent of the nineteenth century, had driven the Taliban from their northern stronghold. positions. The Afghan warriors led the ground attacks, while our Special Forces used GPS units and laser guidance systems to direct airstrikes. Northern Alliance fighters and our Special Forces mounted a cavalry charge and liberated the strategic city of Mazar-i-Sharif. Residents poured into the streets in celebration. The most modern weaponry of the twenty-first century, combined with a horse charge reminiscent of the nineteenth century, had driven the Taliban from their northern stronghold.

I was relieved. While I had confidence in our strategy and dismissed the quagmire talk, I had felt some anxiety. There was no way to know for sure whether our approach would succeed. The fall of Mazar rea.s.sured me. "This thing might just unravel like a cheap suit," I told Vladimir Putin.

It unraveled fast. Within days, almost every major city in the north fell. The Taliban fled Kabul for mountain hideouts in the east and south. Women came out of their homes. Children flew kites. Men shaved off their beards and danced in the streets. One man listened to music-banned under the Taliban-with a ca.s.sette player pressed to his ear. "We are free!" he shouted. A woman teacher said, "I'm happy because I believe now the doors of the school will be open for girls."

I was overjoyed by the scenes of liberation. So was Laura Laura. The Sat.u.r.day after Kabul fell, she delivered the weekly radio address, the first time a First Lady had ever done so. The Taliban regime, she said, "is now in retreat across much of the country, and the people of Afghanistan-especially women-are rejoicing. Afghan women know, through hard experience, what the rest of the world is discovering....The fight against terrorism is also a fight for the rights and dignity of women."

Laura's address prompted positive responses from around the world. The most meaningful came from Afghan women. Expanding opportunity in Afghanistan, especially for women and girls, became a calling for Laura. In the years to come, she met with Afghan teachers and entrepreneurs, facilitated the delivery of textbooks and medicine, supported a new U.S.-Afghan Women's Council that mobilized more than $70 million in private development funds, and made three trips to the country. Just as I was feeling more comfortable as commander in chief, she was gaining her footing as First Lady.

With northern Afghanistan liberated, our attention turned to the south. George Tenet reported that an anti-Taliban movement was coalescing around a Pashtun leader, Hamid Karzai. Karzai was not a typical military commander. He grew up near Kandahar, earned a college degree in India, spoke four languages, and served in the Afghan government before it was taken over by the Taliban. movement was coalescing around a Pashtun leader, Hamid Karzai. Karzai was not a typical military commander. He grew up near Kandahar, earned a college degree in India, spoke four languages, and served in the Afghan government before it was taken over by the Taliban.

Two days after our bombing campaign began, Karzai hopped on a motorcycle in Pakistan, crossed the border, and rallied several hundred men to take Tarin Kot, a small city near Kandahar. The Taliban discovered Karzai's presence and sent troops to kill him. With his position about to be overrun, the CIA dispatched a helicopter to pick him up. After a brief period, Karzai returned to lead the resistance. He was joined in late November by a contingent of Marines. The remaining Taliban officials fled Kandahar. The city fell on December 7, 2001, the sixtieth anniversary of Pearl Harbor, two months to the day after my speech in the Treaty Room.

Driven out of their strongholds, the remnants of the Taliban and al Qaeda fled to Afghanistan's rugged eastern border with Pakistan. In early 2002, Tommy Franks mounted a major a.s.sault called Operation Anaconda. Our troops, joined by coalition partners and Afghan forces, squeezed out the remaining al Qaeda al Qaeda and Taliban fighters in eastern Afghanistan. CIA officers and Special Forces crawled through the caves, calling in airstrikes on terrorist hideouts and putting a serious dent in al Qaeda's army. and Taliban fighters in eastern Afghanistan. CIA officers and Special Forces crawled through the caves, calling in airstrikes on terrorist hideouts and putting a serious dent in al Qaeda's army.

I hoped I would get a call with the news that Osama bin Laden Osama bin Laden was among the dead or captured. We were searching for him constantly and received frequent but conflicting information on his whereabouts. Some reports placed him in Jalalabad. Others had him in Peshawar, or at a lake near Kandahar, or at the Tora Bora cave complex. Our troops pursued every lead. Several times we thought we might have nailed him. But the intelligence never panned out. was among the dead or captured. We were searching for him constantly and received frequent but conflicting information on his whereabouts. Some reports placed him in Jalalabad. Others had him in Peshawar, or at a lake near Kandahar, or at the Tora Bora cave complex. Our troops pursued every lead. Several times we thought we might have nailed him. But the intelligence never panned out.

Years later, critics charged that we allowed bin Laden to slip the noose at Tora Bora. I sure didn't see it that way. I asked our commanders and CIA officials about bin Laden frequently. They were working around the clock to locate him, and they a.s.sured me they had the troop levels and resources they needed. If we had ever known for sure where he was, we would have moved heaven and earth to bring him to justice.

Operation Anaconda marked the end of the opening phase of the battle. Like any war, our campaign in Afghanistan had not gone perfectly. But in six months, we had removed the Taliban from power, destroyed the al Qaeda training camps, liberated more than twenty-six million people from unspeakable brutality, allowed Afghan girls to return to school, and laid the foundation for a democratic society to emerge. There had been no famine, no outbreak of civil war, no collapse of the government in Pakistan, no global uprising by Muslims, and no retaliatory attack on our homeland.

The gains came at a precious cost. Between the start of the war and Operation Anaconda, twenty-seven brave Americans were killed. I read each name, usually in my early morning briefings at the Resolute desk. I imagined the pain their families felt when the military officer appeared at their door. I prayed that G.o.d would comfort them amid their grief.

Early in the war, I decided to write letters to the family members of Americans lost on the battlefield. I wanted to honor their sacrifice, express my sorrow, and extend the grat.i.tude of the country. As I sat down to write on November 29, 2001, I remembered a letter Abraham Lincoln had written in 1864 to Lydia Bixby Lydia Bixby, a Ma.s.sachusetts woman who was believed to have lost five sons in the Civil War.

"I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming," Lincoln wrote. "But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may a.s.suage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom."

My letter was addressed to Shannon Spann, the wife of Mike Spann, the CIA officer killed in the prison uprising at Mazar-i-Sharif and the first battlefield death of the war: Dear Shannon,On behalf of a grateful nation, Laura and I send our heartfelt sympathy to you and your family on the loss of Mike. I know your heart aches. Our prayers are with you all.Mike died in a fight against evil. He laid down his life for a n.o.ble cause-freedom. Your children must know that his service to our nation was heroic and brave.May G.o.d bless you, Shannon, your children, and all who mourn the loss of a good and brave man.Sincerely,George W. Bush I sent letters to the families of every service member who laid down his or her life in the war on terror. By the end of my presidency, I had written to almost five thousand families.

In addition to my correspondence, I met frequently with family members of the fallen. I felt it was my responsibility to comfort those who had lost a loved one. When I traveled to Fort Bragg in March 2002, I met the families of servicemen killed during Operation Anaconda. I was apprehensive. Would they be angry? Would they be bitter? I was ready to share tears, to listen, to talk-whatever I could do to ease their pain.

One of the widows I met was Valerie Chapman. Her husband, Air Force Technical Sergeant John Chapman, had bravely attacked two alQaeda bunkers in remote mountains during an enemy ambush, helping to save his teammates before laying down his own life. Valerie told me John loved the Air Force. He had enlisted when he was nineteen and had served for seventeen years.

I crouched down so that I was eye level with John and Valerie's two daughters-Madison, age five, and Brianna, age three. I pictured my own girls at that age. My heart broke at the thought that they would grow up without their dad. I told them he was a good man who had served with courage. I fought back tears. If the little girls remembered anything of the meeting, I wanted it to be how much I respected their father, not a weepy commander in chief.

As the meeting wrapped up, Valerie handed me a copy of her husband's memorial pamphlet. "If anyone ever tells you this is the wrong thing to do," she said intently, "you look at this." She had written a note on the pamphlet: "John did his job, now you do yours."

I remembered her words, and others like them, every time I made decisions about the war.

Over time, the thrill of liberation gave way to the daunting task of helping the Afghan people rebuild-or, more accurately, build from scratch. Afghanistan in 2001 was the world's third-poorest country. Less than 10 percent of the population had access to health care. More than four out of five women were illiterate. While Afghanistan's land area and population were similar to those of Texas, its annual economic output was comparable to that of Billings, Montana. Life expectancy was a bleak forty-six years.

In later years, Afghanistan would often be compared with Iraq. But the two countries started from vastly different points. At the time of its liberation, Afghanistan's per capita GDP was less than a third of Iraq's. The infant mortality rate in Afghanistan was more than twice as high. Helping the Afghan people join the modern world would clearly be a long, arduous undertaking.

When I ran for president, I never antic.i.p.ated a mission like this. In the fall of 2000, Al Gore and I debated the most pressing issues facing America. Not once did the words Afghanistan Afghanistan, bin Laden bin Laden, or al Qaeda al Qaeda come up. We did discuss nation building. "The vice president and I have a disagreement about the use of troops," I said in the first debate. "...I would be very careful about using our troops as nation builders." come up. We did discuss nation building. "The vice president and I have a disagreement about the use of troops," I said in the first debate. "...I would be very careful about using our troops as nation builders."

At the time, I worried about overextending our military by undertaking peacekeeping missions as we had in Bosnia and Somalia. But after 9/11, I changed my mind. Afghanistan was the ultimate nation building mission. We had liberated the country from a primitive dictators.h.i.+p, and we had a moral obligation to leave behind something better. We also had a strategic interest in helping the Afghan people build a free society. The terrorists took refuge in places of chaos, despair, and repression. A democratic Afghanistan would be a hopeful alternative to the vision of the extremists.

The first step was to empower a legitimate leader. Colin Powell worked with UN officials on a process for the Afghan people to select an interim government. They decided to hold a traditional Afghan gathering called a loya jirga loya jirga, or grand council. Afghanistan was not a safe enough place to convene the meeting, so Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder of Germany generously offered to host the council in Bonn.

After nine days of deliberations, the delegates selected Hamid Karzai Hamid Karzai to serve as chairman of the interim authority. When Karzai arrived in Kabul for his inauguration on December 22-102 days after 9/11-several Northern Alliance leaders and their bodyguards greeted him at the airport. As Karzai walked across the tarmac alone, a stunned Tajik warlord asked where all his men were. Karzai responded, "Why, General, you are my men. All of you who are Afghans are my men." to serve as chairman of the interim authority. When Karzai arrived in Kabul for his inauguration on December 22-102 days after 9/11-several Northern Alliance leaders and their bodyguards greeted him at the airport. As Karzai walked across the tarmac alone, a stunned Tajik warlord asked where all his men were. Karzai responded, "Why, General, you are my men. All of you who are Afghans are my men."